The Warmth of White Lightning
by theonewhoburnedthesun
Summary: Seto Kaiba. Cold, reserved, never showing feeling for anyone but his little brother. He never believed Yugi or the Geek Squad, but her blue eyes make him doubt his own doubts. Worse, he might actually admit he was wrong. SetoXKisara
1. The Spiritual Dream

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Okay, it has been forever since I have published a fanfic. I'm trying something new, non-Twilight related. So here it goes.<strong>

**Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.**

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><p><strong>Enjoy. ;)<strong>

It was the night that he became orphaned that a young Seto Kaiba had the most vivid dream of his life.

In his dream, Seto was slightly older – stronger – as his calves squeezed around the belly of his dark grey stallion. The horse galloped through the dirt, kicking up dust around them. Seto, awoken by the blood-curdling screams coming from a group passing his village, set out to chase the screams of a girl. A girl who was in trouble.

He searched the dim lit sky, which seemed to be the only directional clue he had – a thick pillar of smoke was his marker towards which he galloped.

Another scream pierced through the desert, so Seto pressed his heel into the horse's side to push him forward. In the distance, he saw a cluster of makeshift tents circling the smoking pillar. Dirty brown horses were hooked to what seemed to be a wagon; they were restless and raucous, nosily blowing air through their nostrils.

As Seto drew closer, he realized that the wagon was actually an iron cage, which was loosely fastened by a thick length of rope. He reached his hand to the belt around his waist, which held his hunting knife. Seto was sure that, if he emerged into the camp unseen, he could quietly cut the rope and usher the imprisoned girl away.

"Tread lightly, boy, we must be quiet," he whispered into the ear of his horse, petting its mane

Seto circled the camp before he approached, so that the scoundrels could not see him coming. As the sun began to set farther behind the barren mountains, Seto was able to blend into the darkness. He was a few yards from the camp when he saw something white moving within the cage.

Seto's veins coursed with bewilderment as he laid his eyes on the magnificent creature that was held captive by the cast-iron bars. Her long platinum white hair hung to her waist – and even in the darkness, her bright blue eyes astounded him. Never had he seen a girl with such fair features. Only once before had he seen a human with blue eyes. But her white hair was unbelievably unnatural – and also the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She spotted him, her azure eyes gazing at him. He held a solemn finger to his lips, communicating to her that she mustn't make a sound. There was no one outside the tents – it was time to release the mystical being that was a captive to the barbarians.

He flung himself from the horse, his feet hitting the ground with a quiet pat. The soil crunched beneath his feet, but not loud enough to alert anyone. His only concern was the unruly horses, which had already begun to rear the hooves at the sight of Seto's horse.

Seto was at the cage in an instant, pulling his knife from his belt and quickly beginning to let its teeth gnaw at the rope.

"What is your name?" the girl asked in a whisper, her fingers wrapping around the iron bars.

"Seto," he replied, gritting his teeth, as the rope was almost completely sawed away.

"I am Kisara." Her voice was full of knowledge, full of wisdom. Seto glanced up at her as he pulled away the rope. She was his age, yet filled with so much anguish and insight. Her eyes glittered in the night, captivating him.

"Kisara…" Seto muttered, swinging the door of the cage open. He held open his arms, and she fell into them. She was too weak to walk, he realized, as her bony fingers wrapped around his hands weakly.

"I cannot run," she whispered to Seto's, leaning so close to him that her lips brushed against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"I know," Seto replied. "You can take my horse – but first, we must go. Now."

He took her limp body and gently sat her atop his horse. Her hair hung over her face, hiding her eyes. Seto flung his leg over the horse's back, and as soon as he was steady, Kisara immediately clung to Seto.

Just as he was turning his horse around, Seto heard the rampant yelling and clattering; signaling that the camp had realized their prisoner had escaped. Seto took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Go!" he yelled right into his horse's ear, stabbing his heel into its ribcage. It took off at an incomprehensible speed, the steady rhythm hooves smacking the desert floor was in sync with the beating of Seto's heart.

He suddenly felt Kisara's fingers clench around his neck. Her chest was flush against his back, her face buried in the fabric of Seto's ragged shirt.

"Do not be afraid," he told her, ignoring the pain he felt as her fingernails dug at his skin.

"Thank you, Seto." Her grip loosened, but she still held on to Seto, keeping her steady as the horse galloped through the night.

He saw his village ahead – and his heart froze when he saw flames engulfing it. His vision became blurry with tears, his skin hot with anger.

"No!" he yelled, sobs racking through his body. He stopped the horse, diving off the side, and looked up at the beautiful girl on its back.

"Seto," she pled, unsure and terrified, stretching for his hand. Seto reached up and calmly brushed the tips of his fingers against hers. Her pale skin was cold and soft, while he felt dead inside. He shut his eyes, and shook his head.

"Go far from here – until you find water. Cut your hair, do something so they won't ever find you," he growled, his voice tinted with false bravery. Kisara's lips turned down in a frown, concern flooding her eyes.

"I will never forget you." She gripped the mane of the horse, and closed her eyes shut. Seto slapped the horse with all his might, and it launched itself in the opposite direction – away from his village and the camp where she had been held.

"I won't ever forget you either," Seto whispered, closing his eyes once the horse was out of his vision.

The next thing he knew, Seto was on his knees, screaming into a towering wall of flames. His home – his mother – had been consumed by the fiery of the slave traders that he'd rescued Kisara from. His insatiable anger had begun to consume every fiber of his being. He pounded his fists into the ground, deep into the dirt and ash. Seto then began the search for the villains who had destroyed his life.

He heard laughing. Then he was screaming again. His fists were suddenly bloody. Cries erupted in his throat, but staggered through his lips. Then a bright lightning – white and as bright as the midday sun – struck the criminals. They were incinerated by the magical white light, causing Seto to stagger backwards in fear. With tear filled eyes, Seto gazed into the night sky.

All he saw was the blurry image of a white dragon with the most familiar eyes.

When Seto Kaiba awoke, he was covered in sweat, and tears still continued to stroll down his face like a waterfall. He used the edge of his sheet to wipe them dry, but struggled to stifle the sobs that he couldn't help but let out. The dream was so real – so vividly real. He could still feel the heat that came from the deathly flames; he could still hear the evil laughter of those men. Most of all, he swore that he could still feel the fingernails of a girl digging into his neck.

A hesitant knocking on the door, luckily, interrupted Seto's train of thought.

"Mokuba?" he called out quietly, squinting in the darkness to make out the door leading to his room. It squeaked as it opened, and a small face peaked through the crack.

"Are you okay, Seto?" His high-pitched voice sounded even more childish as a whisper. And that was quite all right, considering his little brother was only five.

"I'm fine," Seto lied, closing his eyes.

"You were yelling, big brother. You were crying." To Seto's displeasure, Mokuba always saw through his pretenses. His little brother approached the edge of his bed, and smiled. "You're the strongest person I know, Seto. But whenever I have a bad dream, you always hold me until I fall back to sleep."

Seto closed his eyes in shame. "But I'm the big brother, Moki."

He chuckled softly, putting a hand on Seto's forehead. "Big, little…what's the difference?"

Seto knew the matter was out of his hands, so he pushed back his blankets in defeat. His little brother climbed in with him, snuggling in the crook of Seto's neck. Even though this was for his benefit, Seto tucked quilt around Mokuba. He buried his face in his brother's unruly black hair, and closed his eyes. The only thing he saw was a pair of fierce, blue eyes.

Seto awoke to the sound of a loud knocking on the door. Relieved, for he had been given a dreamless sleep, he rubbed his eyes. He assumed either his mother or father would get the door, but the knocking continued for several minutes.

Mokuba began to stir, so Seto climbed out of bed quietly to see what the commotion was all about. Through the stained glass of the front door, he could see flashing red and blue lights. Was someone in trouble? He shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that his parents were do-gooders, not troublemakers. And of course, neither he nor Mokuba had done anything illegal.

He turned the deadbolt, and then cracked open the door to look outside. A large man with dark grey eyes and no expression stared down at him through the crack. He held up a badge, which to Seto, seemed official enough. He welcomed the officer inside – but his presence in the foyer only lasted a moment.

"I am Officer Klienman. Please go get your brother – you need to come with me. There has been an accident."

Seto's eyes filled with watery tears; his heart told him what his brain did not know. It raced with fear and despair.

"No…" Seto whispered, swallowing hard. "I—I didn't know—I thought they came home from their dinner late…what will I tell him?" Him being Mokuba. It was just last night that he had to comfort Seto due to is overly imaginative mind. Who was going to comfort them both? "They… they can't be dead! They can't lave us!"

Seto's knees were weak, and he shook his head. He ran back to his bedroom, and locked the door, biting his lips shut so that he did not start sobbing and wake up his slumbering little brother. He sniffled, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his nightshirt.

Mokuba yawned, and Seto knew he was awake.

"Another bad dream, big brother?" Seto's heart filled with anguish as he walked over to his little one. He kneeled next to Mokuba, forcing a smile.

"No. No more bad dreams," he whispered, hoping a soft tone would not give away the pain that moved inside him. "Please go back to sleep, Moki." He brushed a few strands of black hair from his brother's face.

"Hmm?" Mokuba mumbled reaching up to wipe his eyes. Seto stopped him, forcing his hand back under the blankets.

"Just… just go to sleep. Have sweet dreams. Moki." Mokuba smiled before closing his eyes, and falling back into his dream world.

_You will need all the good dreams you can get,_ Seto thought, burying his face in his hands as he tried to imagine the dragon from his dream. Its bright lightening breath was the only thing he wished to see – for it illuminated the darkness of his awful dream world. Maybe it could set aflame his life, before the darkness consumed it as well.

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><p><strong>I can only hope that in my Twilight fanbase that I also have some Yu-Gi-Oh fans... If not, I hope that you are captivated by the mystical love that everyone loves. 3<strong>

**Review!**


	2. Imprisoning Destiny

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>Enjoy. ;)<strong>

Seto was very angry.

Something had flipped a switch in his heart. From the moment he had told Moki about the fate of their parents, he was not the same. When he saw smiling families, he wanted to snarl and punch a wall. Mokuba was the only one who kept his fury from flying out of his control. Despite all of his little brother's gestures – such as holding his hand or sweetly asking Seto to read him a bedtime story – there was an uncontrollable darkness in his heart. Born from his desolate anguish, this darkness was all but consuming him.

At that particular moment, Seto had many things to be angry about. They had spent the first few months following their parent's funeral at a distant cousin's house. They were not welcomed with open arms; as the family was poor an unable to take on two children they barely knew.

One day, a social worker came to take Seto and Mokuba to an orphanage on the south side of Domino City. She had greasy grey hair and yellow teeth, and the backseat of her car had brown stains from God knows what. Seto had laid down his favorite jacket across the seat so that him and Mokuba didn't have to sit on a large stain that looked particularly fresh. The whole ride to the orphanage, Mokuba tucked his head under Seto's arm, crying silent tears as they rode across the city.

Seto hadn't shed one single tear since the day he found out his parents were dead. He wondered if Mokuba noticed that. Mokuba, at least before the accident, seemed to notice everything. He was Seto's conscience – the little angel that sat on his shoulder to remind him right from wrong.

The social worker, during the car ride, tried to start small talk with the brothers. Seto smoothly and politely answered her questions, but left no room to continue any conversation. Bored, he pulled out a magazine that was in the pocket on the back of the drivers seat. It was titled _Technology Today_, and on the front was a large man with dark eyes and a disturbing smile. In large black letters across the bottom was _Gozaburo Kaiba – The Future of Privatized Military._

Curious, he thumbed through the pages to search for the article, but his eyes froze on a more obscure feature about a man by the name _Maximillion Pegasus. _The man's stringy silver hair hid half of his face – his solemn brown eye staring into Seto's. But it wasn't the man's picture that drew his attention; it was the painting that hung behind him.

Though this _Pegasus _man was blocking most of the painting, Seto saw the dragon. Its white scales etched in such detail that it looked as if it was alive. The dragon's piercing blue eyes seemed to glow on the page, making Seto blink. He must be seeing things.

Mokuba glanced at the page as he adjusted under Seto's arm.

"Oh! I saw him on TV!" Mokuba exclaimed, growing interested. "He made some game with monsters, oh, what was it called…" he trailed off, "Oh 'Duel Monsters' was the name."

"The name of the game," Seto chuckled, rubbing the top of Mokuba's head with his forearm.

"That guy looks really creepy though," Mokuba muttered, and Seto nodded in agreement, still preoccupied by the dragon painting. It must be a character in this new game Duel Monsters – but it seemed so familiar. He gasped as he recalled the dream he had _that_ night.

White light – blinding white – that was all he could purely remember. The rest was a blur, like most dreams are. But he remembered the light as it penetrated that stark and devastating darkness. He remembered wishing for the white light, that day, to rescue him.

"We're here," said the social worker in a singsong voice, double-parking in front of the gate outside a grey building.

The brothers emerged from the car with empty expressions. Seto held a suitcase in one hand, and Mokuba's hand in the other. It was the oldest brother's job to shield his younger brother from whatever this place threw – Seto was determined.

The social worker led them down a long cracked sidewalk, leading up to the front door. The three of them were met by a man with black hair and a ratty suit, apparently the manager of the grey soon-to-be-prison. He babbled about the rules of the orphanage, but Seto wasn't listening.

His eyes wandered, and they froze on a girl who was being ushered by a muscular man wearing all black. She stared at the ground, her eyes never meeting his, as she clenched a doll to her chest. Seto suddenly realized that her hair was an astonishing shade of blonde – almost white.

Something tore inside him, like ripping a band-aid off a gushing bullet wound. The white-ish hair was pulled into a long and slick ponytail, hanging down her back. As she walked past Seto, she glanced up – only for a moment – and he was taken back by her blue eyes. He watched her carefully, craning his neck, as the muscular man opened the door of a limousine and motioned her to climb inside. She shrunk in fear, but obliged, and then she disappeared behind the tinted windows.

"Kisara," a whisper slipped from his lips, uncontrollably, and Seto was confused. He didn't remember her face, yet he recognized it. He didn't know her name, yet something inside him forced him to whisper it into the air.

"Seto?" Mokuba nudged his older brother, his grey eyes growing large as he pointed his head towards the orphanage on-site manager. The man's lips were tight and his expression was annoyed.

"Sorry," Seto muttered, in a surprisingly strained voice. The man rolled his eyes and turned around, showing the brothers into the building and to their room.

"Why are you crying Seto," Mokuba asked innocently, his round face filled with concern. Seto's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not." It was then he realized it was a lie. His throat was constricted, as if he were holding back tears. Seto wiped the area under his eyes and felt wet on his fingertips. Swallowing hard, he used the end of his sleeve to wipe away all his tears.

"Oh, really?" Mokuba replied accusingly, raising his eyebrows. Seto let out a light laugh.

"I have a reason to cry," Seto snapped in an unintentionally harsh voice. Mokuba was silent for few minutes, especially as the manager showed them to their beds. Luckily, Seto and Mokuba had a room to each other, since they were brothers. The beds were small and each had a nightstand with a lamp – although there was no lampshade to go on them.

"Wonderful," Seto muttered sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood. Mokuba sat on the edge of his bed, wiping tear filled eyes. Seto immediately rushed over and crouched in front of him. He cupped his little brother's face in his hands and smiled genuinely.

"I miss Mommy and Daddy, Seto," Mokuba whimpered, closing his eyes shut, squinting as is he were thinking really hard.

"Moki," Seto said in a serious tone, "I would do anything for you. You know that right?" Seto nodded lightly, pressing his lips together. "Don't you worry about a thing. I will always there to hold you up. I will always protect you." Mokuba opened his eyes, the grey orbs staring right into Seto's. "We will not be here for long, I promise you that. One day, we will be riding away from here and to a better life. I swear on my life."

Mokuba nodded, sniffling. "Like that one girl who rode off in a limo?" Seto opened his lips, recalling the familiar white hair, the fair blue eyes…

"Yes, Mokuba," said Seto, his tone unfailing. "Exactly like that."

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><p><strong>I can only hope that in my Twilight fanbase that I also have some Yu-Gi-Oh fans... If not, I hope that you are captivated by the mystical love that everyone loves. 3<strong>

**Review!**


	3. Cold

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

* * *

><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>Flash Forward into the future. I was NOT going to spend anymore time than I had to in the decrepit orphanage. Bleh.<strong>

**BTW - MY FOUR REVIEWERS: I LOVE YOU :D (I'm not a creeper, so it's all good)**

**Enjoy. ;)**

"Mr. Kaiba, your twelve o'clock is waiting in the lobby."

Annoyed by the bedroom voice of his assistant, Seto Kaiba pressed the button on his intercom.

"You can tell Roland to send him on up. Escort him to the conference room – and please, Diana, do not get too friendly with him." There was a brief radio silence, and then the sound of the overly flirtatious woman clearing her throat.

"Yes—of course Mr. Kaiba," Diana said, her voice returning to the equally obnoxious high-pitched and worried timbre.

Kaiba, annoyed by the fact that his appointment's early arrival had interrupted him sketching the newest designs for his duel disk, he began to gather his papers to put in this leather briefcase.

He rose from his seat, and proceeded to tighten his tie and put on his trench coat. He hated wearing it, but he had to keep up a certain image that made him look like a hard-ass CEO that no one dared to trifle with. It was not the trench coat that reserved his hold on KaibaCorp, but what it represented. It symbolized the blanket of power that was cast over his company and all his employees. It was a testament to his thick skin, showing the world that emotional distance made him capable of having no weaknesses.

Seto would never admit to a soul that he had weaknesses – for so long even _he was_ convinced that he had none. Though, he had begun to accept that he did have a soft place in his heart – a very small, albeit, place – which was reserved mostly for his brother and only family, Mokuba.

Mokuba had already moved out of the mansion, to Seto's distaste. He wanted to see the world before he settled down into his future – succeeding Seto as CEO of KaibaCorp. He was at the ripe age of twenty-two, enjoying his life, whereas Seto had been CEO of his company for seven years at that age. Seto did not resent Mokuba for his freedom; he just wished that Mokuba had stayed around Domino. After all, he had promised his little brother a better life only seventeen years ago when they arrived at the orphanage.

Seto shook his head, wishing he could shake the awful memories that place held. Years ago, Seto had made it his mission to build a new and well-equipped orphanage, and tore the one the housed sadness for him and Mokuba to the ground. The press spun it as a charitable act, but Seto really did it for selfish reasons. He never wanted to hear of the place, see the place, or imagine any other person experiencing what he did _in that place._

A light began to flash on Seto's office phone, signaling him that Diana was dialing into his office.

"What is it Diana?" Seto spoke into his mouthpiece impatiently.

"Mr. Muto is waiting in the conference room, Mr. Kaiba."

"Thank you."

Seto began to walk from his office and to the conference room. A long black table stretched across the room, the midday light shining through the window that extended from one end to the other. Yugi Muto sat with his arms crossed in one of the chairs, smiling when he saw Seto enter.

"Good afternoon, Kaiba," Yugi greeted him, standing up to shake his hand. Nearly ten years had passed since the last time he had dueled Yugi at the Battle City Tournament, but they still kept in touch. Seto was surprised that Yugi stood face-to-face with him, rather than inches bellow. He hadn't been close enough to his oldest rival to note his height, even though they were both twenty-nine.

"Yugi," Seto replied neutrally, proceeding to sit down in the chair across from him. He pulled a binder from his briefcase, thumbing through the pages until his eyes landed on a dueling bracket.

"New tournament, eh?" Yugi's voice was hinted with excitement – he was always excited to duel. Seto, on the other hand, had done very little dueling since his last defeat. On top of his goal to put a KaibaLand in every country with a free market, he'd also been juggling opening up numerous Duel Monster Academies across the world. He didn't have time to duel, let alone duel Yugi. He did, however, hold an occasional Duel Monster's tournament – they were always a success financially.

"Yes," Seto replied, spreading his plans in front of him, illustrating his ideas. "The usual, with a twist. It will be hosted at our newest KaibaLand location in France – so obviously, a lot of locals will be in the running. But some of the regulars will be there is well. The winner will face you to win the title King of Games." Seto knew without a doubt Yugi's title wasn't going anywhere, though.

Yugi nodded in approval. "I hear France this time of year is nice," he said thoughtfully, his eyes scanning Kaiba's schedule. His eyebrows rose in astonishment. "I see that Joey is in the tournament?"

Kaiba chuckled, shaking his head. "Wheeler always ends up begging for a place, and you always ask, and Mokuba always puts him in. Of course, Mokuba will not be commissioning the games this year – he's off hiking in some tree-infested wasteland – and I really don't want to hear that dog beg."

Yugi smirked, nodding. "Well, don't tell him that."

"I won't be telling him anything, unless it's 'no' when he challenges me to a duel," Seto assured Yugi, repackaging his binder to store away.

"Well I can speak for both of us; we graciously accept."

"Great. So we're done here." Seto rose from his seat, straightening the collar of his shirt.

"Wait—Kaiba," Yugi called out, holding his hand up in protest. "There is something I want to show you." His violet eyes were somber, so Seto sat back down, intrigued. Yugi exhaled, and pulled a manila folder from inside his jacket, which hung on the back of his chair.

"What is this?" Seto asked, as Yugi removed the folder's contents. He realized they were pictures, as four of them were set in front of him side-by-side. They were all photographs of the same thing – large stone tablets.

Seto did not let his façade crack – he just glared emotionlessly down at the carvings. Something was tearing inside him, making his heart race, making him feel the doubts he had sworn to bury.

"Why are you showing me these, Yugi?" he snarled, glaring into a pair of serious eyes that were speckled with a dark crimson.

"You know why, Kaiba."

Seto did know why. Something tugged in his chest, forcing him to look back at the pictures. In all of them were the stone tablets he had seen in Egypt – ones with Duel Monsters in them – but one had the Blue Eyes White Dragon. His dragon. His favorite dragon.

He brought his hand up to that particular photograph, tracing the outline of the Blue Eyes. He swallowed hard, furrowing his eyebrows, as he recalled the visions he experienced when he stared into Pegasus' weird golden eye. He saw things that, to his surprise, he had seen before. But they were only in dreams – but he was wide-awake when the millennium eye pulled him into a different dimension.

Images flashed in Seto's mind as the photograph of the tablet came to life. He saw himself knelt before the tablet, cradling a limp body of a girl in his arms. Cries rippled through his ancient-self as he felt the soul of the blue-eyed white-haired girl drifting into the tablet. He felt anger. He felt rage.

"Get these away from me!" Seto yelled, shutting his eyes – only to be confronted by the same blue ones that had haunted him for years.

"Seto, you must accept that this dragon was part of your past. That_ she_ was real." Yugi obliged though, gathering the pictures and placing them back inside the manila folder.

"I—I," Seto began shaking his head. "I know that they aren't just dreams – or hallucinations – or whatever. Don't let it go to your head though. I am Seto Kaiba, CEO of the most powerful company on Earth. I am the most powerful _man_ the world has ever seen."

"No one has to know," Yugi reminded him. "I am only concerned about you."

"Concerned, why?" Seto asked him in a mocking tone. "Because I have been so kind to you? Because I didn't put your grandfather in the hospital over _that damned Blue Eyes?_" Seto could feel the blood rushing to his head, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I have done nothing but raise you up on a duelist's pedestal – not _for you –_ for _me._ I am Seto Kaiba. I am selfish. The thought of you being concerned about me is absurd."

"Kaiba," Yugi sighed calmly, not raising his voice, but lowering it to show Seto how serious he was. "I am your friend. I do not hold grudges. In another life, you were among my closest friends. You saved the Pharaoh's life, there for you saved me. I will owe you forever.

"I am glad you have accepted your past – and fulfilled your destiny, just as I have – but there is a reason I brought you these pictures." He slid the manila envelope across the conference table, right into Seto's fingertips. "To remind you that you have a beautiful soul beside you at all times. You don't have to be alone – you can find her."

Seto's lips parted, about to insult Yugi, but he became confused.

"Find her?" he asked Yugi, his voice suddenly very soft – almost inaudible.

Yugi simply nodded. "Apparently, the souls of many of our friends have been reincarnated into our lifetime."

Eagerly, Seto leaned across the table, his eyes wide. "Who?"

Yugi pulled out his wallet, and pulled out a small picture. Seto took it, squinting as he examined the figures. One of them was Yugi, and his muscular arms were wrapped around a girl much smaller than him, but with a playful smile on her face.

"I know her," Seto muttered, trying to recall the figure.

"It's Mana," Yugi answered, smiling, taking back the picture and staring at it longingly for a moment. "Well, her name is actually Meredith. She's from California. She was visiting Egypt when she came across Ishizu – you know she was Isis in ancient Egpyt – and recognized her.

"You see, Meredith had come across an article about the origin of Duel Monsters being the Shadow Games – and had to see for herself. She had, to say the least, noticed an astonishing resemblance between Dark Magician Girl and herself."

"That's a nice story," Seto said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair.

"You'd think that the mere thought of Kisara walking the same ground this building sits on would set you off _just a little_." Yugi was slightly insulted, tucking the picture back in his wallet.

"Is that what you're telling me? That a girl I barely knew in—" he cringed as he muttered the words "—past life, is back?" There was a small amount of hopefulness in his voice, but he didn't think Yugi noticed.

"I'm telling you its possible, if you'd just pull your head out of your ass first."

Seto's eyes narrowed, glaring at the man across from him. "Get out."

Yugi laughed, pulling out his phone to check the time. "I guess it's about time I get going," he trailed off, putting on his jacket.

"Yes, you have stayed past your welcome," Seto agreed, standing up.

Yugi smiled as he walked out of the conference room and called over his shoulder, "See you in France!"

Seto growled, kicking one of the conference chairs on its side, and its wheels spun in the air. He was furious that angry that Yugi's presence alone made him feel insignificant and weak.

Was it because Yugi was the only one that _knew_ Seto before he was so cold? In his flashbacks, the Priest Seto was much like the Seto before his parents died. Happy. Hopeful. Loyal to many.

Seto put his hands in his face, taking deep breaths. He was not prepared to be weak now. He was too young to go through a midlife crisis. The buzzing of his cell phone shocked him out of his reverie – and he glanced across the room.

A sinful curiosity and desire overcame him as he realized Yugi had left the manila folder. Seto glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Yugi was long gone, and picked up the envelope.

_Kisara might be out there_, he realized as he pulled out the picture of the Blue Eyes tablet. He was buoyant, for once in his life, as he stared into the eyes of the lifeless stone carving. Or, perhaps, not as lifeless as he thought.

A feeling quite foreign – yet familiar – overcame him as the eyes of the dragon began to glow an aqua blue. He had no control over what happened next.

His lips spread into grin.

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><p><strong>And so it begins.<strong>

**Review!**


	4. Mean Boss

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>Okay, so I was thinking about this as I fell asleep. Seto needed more dimensions to his life. Plus I think its funny as hell. I hope you agree!<strong>

**Enjoy. ;)**

Kisara.

Kisara.

Kisara.

Seto could not get her name out of his head.

He sat at his desk, staring down at a contract that he was supposed to be reviewing, but the words were nothing but illegible symbols. All he could see in his mind were hieroglyphs etched into a tablet, telling the story of his past. It was the same large tablet Ishizu had shown him many years ago, where he – Priest Seto – held out his hand to the Pharaoh. Above his head, was a certain magical dragon, and above the Pharaoh's was the Dark Magician.

When Ishizu had first pointed out the striking resemblance between him and Yugi and these ancient figures, he thought it was a cruel joke. But, after seeing the Shadow Games reborn before his very eyes, he knew there was no coincidence. After all, he could read the symbols that were carved into the stone's surface. He could _speak_ a language he could never recall learning.

The Tablet of Lost Memories spoke of a love for a girl with blue eyes and white hair, who became this Priest's protector and spirit guide. It also spoke of friendship shared between a magician and the Pharaoh.

It was painfully obvious that Seto was more than what he made of himself. Yugi made that clear numerous times, although he feigned disbelief and always called his rival crazy. He knew deep in his heart every word was true. He couldn't deny it inside – it was _blasphemous_ to call the girl he'd longed for all his life nothing more than a fairy tale.

Kisara.

Waking from his concentration, Seto heard a knocking on his office door.

"Who is it?" he barked, reclaiming his belligerent veneer.

"It's me, Mr. Kaiba," said Diana's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in." He collected himself, sitting erect in his large office chair.

Diana Fell strutted into his office in that way she usually did. Seto knew how most women worked – especially those in his presence. He was sharp, well toned, and aggressive to say the least. But his interest wasn't sparked by low cut blouses and skirts that were hiked up almost enough to see underwear. He'd told himself for years he was simply asexual – too consumed by his work to desire just any woman. He hadn't been consumed by lust since he was a teenager – and that was very short lived.

"I brought you your coffee, Mr. Kaiba." Set was always annoyed by the way her voice dropped into a slow and low tone when she spoke his surname. He huffed, taking the coffee from her hand.

"Thank you. Sit." She immediately took a seat in the lounge chair opposite to him. She crossed her legs, trying to gain Kaiba's attention. And she did.

"What the hell are you wearing, Diana?" Her expression suddenly changed, her legs uncrossing, and she pulled down the end of her skirt. It was painful to watch, as a confident woman transformed into a child who was being confronted by the principal, Seto thought.

"Um—well, Mr. Kaiba, its summer and my dress pants are at the laundry mat—you know…" she trailed off, bowing her head down. "I'm so sorry my outfit has offended you."

"Offended me?" Seto laughed, sipping his coffee. Perfect as usual. "It is not about your dress being offensive. It is company policy. No skirts, no dresses." Diana began to play with her long blond hair innocently, pouting.

"Once again, I apologize, but I like I said, I don't have anything to change in to."

Seto sighed. "Personally, I don't give a damn whether you wear a skirt or not. You could strut around in your underwear all day if you wanted. The fact of the matter is, women in this company take advantage of the fact they can pull up their skirt and try to tantalize me with their womanly wiles.

"I am not impressed by those women, and for the past three weeks you have been trying to be the naughty assistant. That is _not _why I hired you, God damn it. You are a hell of an assistant, but you aren't irreplaceable."

"Please, Mr. Kaiba, I beg you – I need this job." Seto rolled his eyes as Diana's voice became strained and her eyes became brimmed with water.

"Oh, suck it up," Seto told her forcefully, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I'm not firing your slutty ass; I don't feel like training a new assistant. Just answer me this: what is your job description?"

Diana sat up straight, sniffling as she answered confidently, "Manage your schedule and emails, bring you food and coffee, and keep my mouth shut."

"That's right. Now, assistants in the past have excelled in the first to areas just as well as you have – but have failed where you haven't." Seto leaned forward, watching Diana as she squirmed.

"Sir? I—I—Could you explain, please?" she muttered, not understanding. Seto nodded impatiently.

"Since you have been here, I have anonymously fed you false information regarding my personal life – information that, if it ever presented itself in a tabloid, I would know where it came from.

"You, Diana, did not tell the press about that escort service that emailed me about three months ago. You see, if you _had_ leaked that information, I would have known it was you because the name of the service had a fake name."

"Oh," Diana sighed in relief. "Thank God that was fake." Seto laughed mockingly, staring down at her.

"Says the woman who's trying to get her boss to screw her?" Seto raised he eyebrows in question, causing Diana to quickly gape into her hands.

"Yes—that won't happen ever again, Mr. Kaiba. I promise."

"Good," Seto said curtly. "I can promise you, if it does, you'll be on your ass faster than you can say '_it's laundry day_.'"

"Yes, Mr. Kaiba," Diana responded, lowering her embarrassment.

"That will be all Diana," Seto dismissed in a neutral tone, as if the last ten minutes had not happened. Unsure of what to do, Diana climbed from her chair – pulling her skirt down as she did – and walked normally out of the office. Relieved, Kaiba smirked. That had been the most fun he'd had in a while.

After all, little did she know, there was a piece of toilet paper dangling from the hem of her skirt. Very attractive, Seto though as he let out a soft chuckle, returning to fake-reading the contract that he wished were written in Ancient Egyptian.

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><p><strong>What's worse, Kaiba rejecting you or having Kaiba <em>not<em> be sexily aggressive/assertive/mean-boss-dude?**

**Ahh, decisions, decisions.**

**Review!**


	5. Enthrallment

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>AU ALERT!<strong>

**Ok, so as an artist, I changed how this particular scene happened. This is how I see it in my mind, when I recall the events that occurred...**

**Just read it. I know you'll love it. 3**

**Enjoy. ;)**

It is human instinct to sense the dangers around one's self. Whether it's a tremor that runs up the spine, or just a change in the air, there is slightly psychic instinct built into the mind of man.

Seto, who had lain down to sleep on the couch in his office, suddenly felt that chill travel through his bones as he began to nod off. He wasn't able to open his heavy-lidded eyes; Seto was forced to enter the dream world that always began with that terrifying shiver.

After the cold, he felt darkness. He was standing in a lightless room, the air thick and heavy in his lungs. Seto was unable to move, let alone speak, as he was suddenly looking into a pair of bright blue eyes.

But Seto was still in the room of darkness – or rather, locked away in the chambers of his own mind. He knew this part of the dream. It was where Aknadin had taken over the Priest Seto's body and killed Kisara.

This realization sent Seto over the edge, submitting to his fate. He watched through the eyes Aknadin controlled as her dry pink lips moved with force, trying to speak to Seto. But Seto could not hear.

Her hair was matted onto her forehead; sweat dribbling down her chin as it mixed with her angry tears. Seto tried to reach out for her, but the paralysis that Aknadin had cast over him was all too much. For a moment he was hopeful, as his arm began to rise to her face. He willed to brush his fingertip against her porcelain face, drag his thumb across those lips – but was taken back by sadness as Aknadin slapped Kisara across the cheek.

A breathless scream erupted inside Seto, and tears began to stroll down his face. He hoped Kisara could see them, see his remorse and see that he was inside the body he was held captive to. She had fallen to the ground from the force of the blow, but began to rise again. She looked straight into Seto's eyes, her lips clearly outlining the words, so clear that he was absolutely certain of what she said.

_"You will pay for that, Aknadin."_

She took a couple steps back, biting her bleeding lip as she stared into the sky. She raised her arms high above her head and closed her piercing blue eyes. Then, the ground began to shudder, the dirt and rocks bouncing of the ground. The wind began to blow with enormous force, that even the Pharaoh – who seemed to be surveying the situation – was knocked on his back. But the two of them stood sturdily, Seto's eyes growing crazy as a magnificent creature emerged from the dark grey clouds.

Hope grew as Seto recognized the creature – the one who had obliterated the men who destroyed his village so many years ago. He wondered if Kisara had given up on him, and decided that killing him would kill Aknadin. If so, was that the worst thing? The life of the Pharaoh would be spared and so would humanity. That was his purpose. That was his mission.

Ever since he had, once again, laid eyes on Kisara, feelings had started to bubble inside him. Wonder. Curiosity. Feelings that had never even crossed his mind or heart before. Seto wondered if Kisara felt the same – and if so, would she sacrifice a chance to save the world in order to spare his life?

Those fears were soon laid to rest as something else began to happen. Seto's watched in terror as a black dust began to eject itself from his fingertips. Evil was inside him. Evil was taking over him. From the ground rose a large stone tablet, but it was blank. The white dragon hovered over a passionately angry white-haired woman, its roar making Seto's skin vibrate. The black dust wound its way around the white dragon's neck – choking it – and it began to falter in midflight. Kisara fell to her knees – feeling the dragon's pain – and reached her hand towards Seto.

_"Seto."_ He could almost hear the way her lips wrapped around his name.

The white dragon was beginning to be pulled into the tablet. Seto wanted to cry out as Kisara was on the ground, barely enough strength in her to keep looking at him. But, Seto soon realized, it wasn't her eyes looking at him. It was her eyes looking _in _him.

Just as she fell face-first into the ground, the dragon suddenly became just a carved figure in the stone. Forever to be recognized as a tablet rather than a the magnificent white dragon with Kisara's same piercing liquid blue eyes…

"NO!" Seto's cry punctured through Aknadin's hold, and he was certain that he had said it aloud. He reached for her, even as the evil spirit inside him lashed his muscles for doing it. The hold broke completely when Seto touched Kisara's face.

It was cold. Cold like she'd been submerged in a river for hours. Cold like she was dead.

There was a primial growl building deep in Seto's chest, growing as his grief and rage fueled the fire within his soul. He heard the whispers of Aknadin's voice in his mind, trying to reharness Seto into the cage that he'd watched Kisara die in.

Seto stared up at the tablet, scooting Kisara's frail body into his arms as he did. The screams in his mind were nothing compared to the brokenness of his heart. He wrapped his fingers around her delicate jaw, swiping a finger across his lips. He saw his own tears dribble on her face, making it seem as if she were crying for him too.

Seto opened his mouth, stuttering the words. "I—I call upon the Blue Eyes White Dragon – Kisara!" He exclaimed, staring deep into the stone tablet as it began to glow a pale blue. "Expel the evil in my mind!"

Then Seto was suddenly back in the same dark corridor as before, but he did not feel like a slave to any soul. He stood before Aknadin – who was trenched in the blackness and evil of the monster Zork – and sneered.

"Join me," said his once-friend, and supposed-father. "You could be king." The words did not sound as sweet as they did before when Seto had been under the overwhelming influence of the darkness. Instead, the young man closed his eyes, recalling the white beast and the woman who controlled it.

White light filled the corridor, and Seto was free.

But he wasn't. He was still in the subconscious mind, still dreaming. The present-day Seto Kaiba was aware that it was at this moment he usually woke, his night illuminated by the light that shone through the window. But he was not awake, but surrounded by the white light that his dragon had eliminated Aknadin with.

Then he was walking along a familiar cracked sidewalk, holding a familiar small hand within his. The light white faded, and his eyes bore down on an orphanage that had long been destroyed.

He heard the sniffling of his Moki coming from next to him, cuing him to squeeze the hand tighter. Images faded, voices became murmurs as his eyes focused on a small, scared girl.

_Kisara, _Seto immediately realized, as he had just seen an older version of this girl die in another world. She clutched her toy to her chest as a tall man in a frighteningly black wardrobe escorted her to a limousine.

Seto remembered this. This wasn't a figment of his imagination. _This was real._

"Kisara," Seto whispered, watching as the door shut, hiding the small girl away from him.

Images began to blur in Seto's mind, recalling a more ancient memory. He stared up at a girl who sat on top of his horse, who, with serious words said: "_I will never forget you."_

Seto felt his heart racing in his chest, as pictures wove themselves together. The white dragon. His Blue Eyes Duel Monster card. The girl with white-blonde hair at the orphanage. Kisara. Kisara. Kisara.

Air sharply moved through his teeth as his tongue was caught between them, causing Seto Kaiba to blast from his dream world and into reality. Gasping for air, Seto placed a palm on his chest. His heart throbbed as though he'd been running for miles. What had he dreamed?

Then, for a slight moment, his heart stuttered.

He had dreamed of Kisara – and not just those ancient dreams – a new one. A forgotten memory, which had slipped into the folds of his grief and despair. A Kisara that was as young as he was when he entered the orphanage at the age of 12. A Kisara that could be walking the Earth _at this moment._ A Kisara he had to find.

She existed here and now, Seto thought in disbelief. She wasn't an unachievable fairy tale, but a scared girl from a memory. An unfamiliar and scary feeling washed over Seto as the realization struck him like lightning.

She existed.

_She existed._

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><p><strong>There isn't really a phrase to describe what I wanted to convey to you, my readers. This is Seto's joy.<strong>

**Enthrallment.**

**Review!**


	6. Vaulted Secrets

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>AU ALERT!<strong>

**This chapter doesn't have a lot of umph, but it's a good bridge for my plot line. I figured THIS is better than just a small little conversation over an intercom.**

**Enjoy. ;)**

The clicking of his assistant's stiletto heels on the marble floor of his office sent Seto over the edge, plundering into one of his occasional fits of rage.

_"God damn it_, Diana, take those disruptive things off and be quiet!" he yelled, his voice reverberating against the walls and making his assistant jump. He swiped a pile of papers from his desk into the floor in frustration, groaning, and then cradling his head in his hands.

He had woken from his dream with a blanket of disbelief cast over him. His hearing felt muffled, his heart continued to pounding in his chest like a drum - constant, loud, and throbbing in Seto's ears. A relief was also abundant in his mind; it's not everyday you learn you might not be insane as you thought.

"Mr. Kaiba?" Diana leaned forward, her voice filled with concern. She quietly slipped off her heels and hid them under a chair, proceeding then to leave the room when Seto didn't respond.

"Wait," Kaiba mumbled, his voice low as he lifted his head. Diana turned around, her eyes filled with confusion and concern. After all, this was the man - albeit a mean man - that signed her paycheck.

"Yes sir?"

Seto hesitated. Was it the right decision to involve her? Although _Seto Kaiba_ could not afford to trust his employees, on some level he believed that Diana could keep her mouth shut. Her very obnoxious personality and daft physique was misleading on the keep-a-secret front.

"I..." Seto trailed off, forcing himself mentally to take spit it out. "I need to-I mean, I need _you_ to find someone." He tried to make his voice as nonchalant as possible; he knew that if Diana smelt the desperation that was welting inside him like an infection, she'd ask too many questions. But was it worth it, if it meant finding Kisara? He closed his eyes for a brief moment, visualizing those cerulean blue eyes that bore into him like a dagger.

Yes, it just might be worth it.

His assistant - happy to be of some service - pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a ballpoint pen from behind her ear. She stared at Seto, her expression soft and expectant.

"What is their name, Mr. Kaiba?" Diana prompted.

Shit. What were the chances that, like Seto, Kisara had inherited her Ancient Egyptian name? Slim to none, he though with distaste, grimacing. That would make it all the harder for her to be found.

"I don't know her name."

Diana's face fell, her fake lips twisting. "How am I supposed to find someone if I don't even know their name?" she replied rudely, making Seto raise his voice in a tone that made Diana eat her words.

"I don't know, _Diana_, are all people just simply a word? Don't be a dimwit." Seto's fingers clenched the underside of his desk with anxiety, suddenly realizing he'd made a mistake - if you want something done right, you have to do it-

"I'm sorry!" Diana began to backtrack, "Anything you got, and I'll find them - hair color, eye color, favorite color... Height, weight, shoe size, diet -"

"Stop," Seto said suddenly, thinking for a moment. He glanced down at his desk, and there laid his sketchbook.

It was opened to a drawing he'd been penciling in earlier - a smiling girl with a heart shaped face and long wavy hair framing it. Seto had never been an artist, but his subconscious was flooded with so many memories and visions of _her_ that sometimes, the frantic pain bled into reality. The only way could even bear to think at all was sketching whatever image was haunting him. Her smile haunted him, because he'd only seen this smile once. Once upon a time.

Shaking his head, he winced as the sketch was ripped from the notebook. He carefully stuck it inside a large white envelope and handed it to Diana.

"Sir?" she mumbled, pulling the image out from inside. Before Seto could register his reaction, he began to speak.

"That is what she looks like. She has white-blonde hair and fair blue eyes." He tried as hard as possible to keep his voice detached, but the words _fair blue eye_s gushed out of his mouth frantically.

"Ah," Diana breathed as she looked at the drawing, and then to Seto. "This is so very _life-like, _Mr. Kiaba," she mused, "I think I can run it through the KaibaCorp facial recognition software and—"

"No!" Seto shouted, his hands slamming down on his desk. His assistant jumped in fright, taking a few steps back. Seto, mentally trying to calm himself, realized that exhausting KaibaCorp resources could possibly lead a trail back to him. His enemies – and there were _plenty _of those – could find her. Take her from him. Like Aknadin did.

A new wave of anger came over Seto as his most reoccurring vision took over his mind. He cradled his delicate Kisara in his arms before the tablet of his Blue Eyes, crying tears onto her pale cheeks. So fragile, so _gone…_

He took a deep breath, whipping a string of sweat from his brow.

"The only eyes that will ever see that picture is yours and mine, Diana," Seto said in a hushed tone. His assistant nodded. "That means you will not use her picture unless it is for verification. I do not want to hear any of your findings until she is _found._ Do you understand?"

Diana, who shook her head in verification, jotted notes down in her notebook.

"In addition," Seto continued, "you will be searching any and every database in creation from an _anonymous _server. I don't want any trail leading back to me or my company."

"Yes Mr. Kaiba, I will do everything in my power to find… her." Seto noted how Diana's voice chained when she said _her. _Her tone was soft, reassuring, and comforting. Slightly insulted, Seto leaned across his desk.

"I am a cold-hearted _son of a bitch_," Seto reminded Diana angrily. "If I _wanted_ sympathy or compassion, I'd go see a fucking therapist. I am your boss, and you will treat me like the bastard I am. Minus trash-talking me of course." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Instead of being taken back, Diana just let out a chuckle.

"Mr. Kaiba, with all do respect, I must say something." Seto raised his eyebrows in surprise, lifting his hand to prompt her to continue. "Caring for someone doesn't make you any less of an ass – with _all _do respect – and it definitely doesn't make you weak."

_I feel weak,_ Seto thought to himself, not responding. His insides felt like a rotten tomato whenever Kisara crossed his mind, making craters in his subconscious. He could never seem to _stop_ thinking about her. Wasn't that weakness?

"So please, sir, don't lose sight of compassion," Diana said, her voice soft but firm. She held up the sketch of Kisara, so that Seto could see it. "For her."

Seto was left speechless as she turned on her bare heel to leave. Then something hit him.

"One more thing, Diana," he mumbled, pulling open a drawer in his desk and pulling out a slender key card. Disappointed that she didn't get to make a big exit, Diana came slouching back across the marble floor. He handed her the card. "This unlocks vault 967 in the KaibaCorp Hall of Records in the basement," he explained, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

"And what's in there, Mr. Kaiba?" Diana asked curiously, examining the key card. It had no markings, because truly, a vault 967 did not exist. It held files only a privileged few were allowed to see.

"The vault contains the records of an orphanage that KaibaCorp tore down many years ago."

"Shouldn't those be with Social Services, or something?"

"Yes. But I have my reasons to keep these files on a need-to-see basis." Diana's eyes opened wide with sudden understanding, and she nodded.

"And what must I retrieve in there, sir?" she asked softly, biting her lip. Seto glanced down to his desk, so he could avoid imminent surprise from his annoying assistant.

"Inside you will find various files on the children there. Find the records of all children who left the orphanage in 1994. Among them will be a girl who matches the description I gave you…" Seto trailed off, closing his eyes and seeing the small little girl clutching a doll to her chest, staring at the ground as if it were her best friend. "That was the last place I saw _her._ The day I arrived at that God forsaken orphanage."

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><p><strong>This was a little short. I hope no one is too disappointed. <strong>

**Review!**


	7. Desperation

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

* * *

><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>LONG CHAPTER ALERT! - I love these, don't you?<strong>

**Seto gets quite OOC in this chapter. He's basically having a miniature nervous breakdown. Or a panic attack. Something that makes him collapse. And I'm slowly making him softer, but he'll still be Seto Kaiba. I promise**

**Enjoy. ;)**

The next few weeks proved to be aggravatingly stressful for the "Almighty" Seto Kaiba.

He'd spend days at the office – sometimes not going home, but dozing off in his leather chair – holding his head in his hands. Rubbing his temples, he'd try to muster up the motivation to _work_.Never had he tried so hard to run his company; it had always come very natural. Like a survival instinct, his business reflexes were the epitome of who he was. He'd been named Man of the Year in Technology Today, just as his stepfather had been many years ago. He had already submitted his designs for his newest duel disk for mass production.

Seto pondered whether he'd lost his touch.

But you don't lose pure, unadulterated talent overnight. Seto was born with entrepreneurship in his blood – becoming head of the new KaibaCorp was his destiny. He would never admitted that ten years ago, but it was perfectly clear that words like _fate_ and_ destiny _were not to be taken too lightly.

Whenever Seto shut his eyes and slipped into his unconscious dreams, he'd have the same dream over and over again. A littler, younger Kisara was always pacing her way fearfully to a dark limousine and away from him. But, his memory was twisted in such a way, that the moment when his eyes meet hers for that split second – he sees the Blue Eyes White Dragon staring back at him.

He'd wake up from that dream sweating, and then spend three or four ours drawing the images he saw.

Whenever he was feeling especially tired of the uncleanliness of his office, he'd travel home and sleep in his bed. Not that his bedroom was much cleaner; it was the only room in the house that his maid was not allowed to enter.

That night, Seto stumbled in his sleepy and partly drunk stupor from the backseat of his limousine into the mansion. He carefully dragged his feet up the stairs, holding on to the banister for support. Seto entered his room, sighing at the mess.

Ripped pages from his sketchbook were strewn everywhere. Thumbtacks pushed through them, puncturing them into the walls; some were taped to his bedpost. Seto could barely make out the actual walls, as the sketches were somewhat of a wallpaper. That was why his room was forbidden – if anyone _knew_ the lengths of his obsession with Kisara, he'd be ruined - KaibaCorp would lose its shareholders. His life would be over.

Seto fell onto his bed, fully clothed, and wrapped himself with a fleece blanket. He didn't close his eyes, almost afraid of his dreams. If he saw himself bent before that tablet holding her dead body _one more time…_

He brushed the thought from his mind, reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing a half-empty bottle of brandy and put it to his lips. Gulping the stinging liquid, he closed his eyes – just for a moment – and felt a wave of sorrow come over him as he saw her pale blue eyes. He drank more and more, until the bottle was empty. Frustrated, Seto threw the bottle against the wall and yelled, watching the glass shatter and the drawings that were hanging flutter to the floor.

Pressing his lips together, he rushed to pick the pictures from the ground. Some had drops of alcohol on them, the remnants of the broken bottle. He blew on the paper, thick between his fingertips, drying it. Seto then carefully stuck them inside his blazer and lay back on the bed.

"Fuck it," he mumbled aloud, the drunkenness and need for sleep too irresistable. He shut his eyes, letting the dreams and nightmares overtake him.

Seto was jolted from his sleep by the ringing of his bedside phone. Hissing a string of curses, he pressed his fingers against his temples and rubbed. Hung over, he then fumbled around his nightstand to pick up the phone.

"What?" he barked into the mouthpiece, the loudness of his voice hurting his own ears.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiba," Roland said in a hurried tone, "your brother – he wanted to see you – I told him no, but, sir, he didn't listen – he wanted to surprise you… and I know you don't like surprises sir, so I said no again, but he threatened to fire me – can he do that sir?"

It took a few moments to realize what Roland's senseless babbling was all about – but when he did, his blood froze in his veins. He looked around – his dark room was only illuminated by the light that was muffled through his blinds. But he saw the mess. Clothes tossed all around the room, his precious drawings of Kisara hung messily on the wall with no rhyme or reason. A broken bottle of brandy scattered the floor.

And Mokuba was going to see it.

Seto knew that he didn't have much time, so he rushed to first brush the broken glass under his bed. Then he began to hurriedly tear sketches from the walls, gathering them into a neat stack and stuffing them inside his jacket. _Damn it, _Seto thought, realizing his suit that he wore yesterday was wrinkled from being slept on, he realized he had to change.

"Seto!" His bedroom door flung open, Mokuba standing in the frame. Seto was like a deer in headlights, unable to move, unable to speak. He watched as his brother's eyes changed from an excited sparkle to one of shock. Concern.

"Mo…Mokuba?" he spoke in a strained voice, his eyes darting around the room. It was still a mess. There were still a few pictures of Kisara taped to the bedpost. Dirty clothes scattered around the floor. There were also a few empty bottles of brandy sitting on his dresser.

"Seto, what happened?" he asked, flipping on a light switch and gazing around the bedroom.

"You should learn to knock," Seto said, trying to redirect the path this conversation was taking. But it was hopeless.

Mokuba saw the empty brandy bottles, his eyes wide as they flashed to Seto. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Clearly," Seto said in an annoyed tone, as if it were no big deal. But, as always, Mokuba saw through his bullshit.

"Seto – what's wrong with you? You look like you haven't slept in months," Mokuba said raising his voice. Seto thought that, on that point, he was right. "Whenever I call Diana, to ask how you are _– I don't want to bother you –_ she says you are acting strange."

"That bitch can't keep her mouth shut," Seto mumbled resentfully, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"You look bad, Seto." Mokuba sat down next to him, putting his hand on Seto's arm. Seto glanced up at him and didn't see his little brother anymore. He saw a man. Stocky, yet with a gentle face, Mokuba had really grown up. His hair wasn't a long tangled mess, but black and cut short and gelled.

"You have Mom's eyes," Seto said thoughtfully, breaking the gaze and staring in his lap. He suddenly depressed and anxious, and craved for something to smooth the jagged edges that poked and prodded his insides.

"Seto…" Mokuba breathed, his voice getting low. "Please tell me what happened."

Seto shut his eyes shamefully, shaking his head. He was supposed to be the strong one – Mokuba's rock. Now he was crumbling like a sandcastle, every moment growing more painful than the last. His chest felt tight – unbearably tight – and he began to breathe hard and fast.

"I—I," he choked, his throat thick. He felt Mokuba's hand clench around his tightly, causing him to have a flashback.

_The brothers emerged from the car with empty expressions. Seto held a suitcase in one hand, and Mokuba's hand in the other. It was the oldest brother's job to shield his younger brother. Mokuba's hand squeezed around his fingers, reminding Seto just how strong he had to be._

Seto realized he was crying. Not just shedding a few watery tears, but choking out wretched sobs as he clenched at his shirt – trying to stop his heart from beating so hard. Mokuba wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm him, but it didn't work.

"My mind—I've lost my mind," Seto whispered to his brother, "I can't—I can't be weak… I have to be stronger…"

"Please, Seto, tell me what the fuck happened." Mokuba's language shocked Seto, but his tone was what calmed him down. Full of such seriousness and concern, he looked at his brother through blurry eyes.

He pulled his free hand into the inside of his blazer and took out a sketch, handing it to Mokuba.

A few seconds of silence fell in the room, as Seto watched Mokuba examine the picture with confusion and curiosity. The picture he held was of Kisara holding her arms to the sky as she summoned the white dragon. It was one of Seto's favorite sketches. Her face was full of so much passion, and he could make out barely the outline of his Blue Eyes emerging from the clouds.

Mokuba suddenly turned to Seto, not saying a word, but his eyes begging the questions. _What is this?_

Seto breathed deeply.

"It's a picture of someone," he answered curtly as he wiped his tears with the edge of his sleeve.

"No, it's a _drawing._ You drew this." It wasn't a question. Seto adjusted his position on the edge of the bed, angling himself towards his little brother.

Grimacing, he nodded. "Do you believe in destiny, Mokuba?"

Taken back by the question, his brother considered it for a moment.

"I believe…" he said articulately, "that there is no such thing as coincidence. I think that things happen for a reason. But destiny means that there's a road that you're going to take no matter what. That's no fun." He chuckled, shaking his head.

Seto sighed, his voice wavering, "You might not believe me if I told you, Moki."

Mokuba's eyebrows raised, and he gave Seto a weird expression. "You never call me that anymore." His voice was slightly judgmental.

Seto shrugged. "Out loud… maybe not. You'll always be Moki in my mind…my heart." He weakly put his hand on his chest, still feeling the painful and tight feeling, as his anxiety was still strong.

"That's…" Mokuba trailed off, "so out of character. And I promise, Seto, if you tell me what's up I promise to believe you. I promise."

_I promise._ The words stuck him like a needle.

_"We will not be here for long, I promise you that. One day, we will be riding away from here and to a better life. I swear on my life."_

The only promise he'd ever came through on, rescuing Mokuba from that orphanage. But for what? To a home where their stepfather beat him? To a life where Mokuba resented Seto for growing up and leaving him behind?

"Remember that time where I went to Egypt?" Seto asked Mokuba, his voice hesitant.

"Yeah… wasn't that like, ten years ago?"

"Yes," Seto replied. "I followed Yugi there, you know."

"No, I didn't," Mokuba said darkly, sounding insulted that Seto had not confided that in him. Seto realized that this conversation would only get worse from here.

"Well, it was because I'd been having visions – ever since the Battle City tournament. Strange hallucinations. I thought, for some reason, that my answers could be found wherever Yugi and his friends were going. After all they were all for that mythical mumbo-jumbo anyways

"And… I got there and they were all lying in front of this tablet. Unconscious. Suddenly, it's glowing… and I'm being sucked into this world… the world from my visions. Ancient Egypt. I thought it was a joke – a trick. I thought that maybe even I was dead. No one in this world could see me, I was like a ghost.

"But then… this girl comes up to me screaming my name." Mokuba held up Seto's drawing, and he nodded. "Her. She was the only one who could see me. She was looking for Seto – but not _me_ – the Seto who was a part of that world."

"What do you mean, there are two Setos?" Mokuba asked innocently, listening intently.

"There was me – from the future. Then there was the Seto who was apparently a Priest and servant to the Pharaoh. But the thing was, I recognized her. I knew her, from my visions. I would hold her, I would cry over her – in these hallucinations. I knew her name – Kisara_ – _and she thought I was_ him._ Then she realized I was different. My clothes, my coloring – but I knew she was the answer to my questions. So I followed her.

"Eventually, I saw myself – well, this other me – and he was standing before a dark and terrifying creature. He was trying to convince Priest Seto to join him and this evil, saying that he would become Pharaoh. He possessed the Priest, and was about to kill the Pharaoh when Kisara summoned the Blue Eyes White Dragon—"

"Wait!" Mokuba said quickly, shaking his head. "Where did the Blue Eyes come from? That's a Duel Monster."

"From all the time you spent with Yugi and the geek squad, didn't you hear that Pegasus got the idea for Duel Monsters from Ancient Egyptian tablets?" Seto asked, but Mokuba stared at him with a confused expression. "Apparently they stored spirits that were inside peasants in these tablets, to seal away their power… because most of them were evil spirits."

"Oh." Mokuba nodded his head, telling Seto to continue.

"Her spirit was the Blue Eyes White Dragon. But, the monster that possessed the Priest Seto put it in a tablet, and Kisara… died." Seto winced slightly, remembering her limp body – cold, dead… "Within my mind – I mean, _Priest Seto's_ mind, he was able to summon the spirit of the Dragon, Kisara's spirit, to expel the monster within him."

"Okay," Mokuba sighed in frustration. "So she died… but since her soul was in the tablet… you were able to use the dragon?"

"Precisely," Seto replied, and then suddenly realized Mokuba said 'you' instead of 'he'. "Well, _I _didn't do anything… the _Priest Seto_ did all this. I was just watching."

"Seto. It sounds to me like you're the reincarnated spirit of the Priest Seto. You were having flashbacks of his memories, so by default, you did all those things," Mokuba stated blatantly, his tone serious.

"So… you don't think I'm crazy?" Seto muttered.

"Hell no… I saw Yugi split in half, basically. From just him into him plus the Pharaoh guy. Wait, so I'm guessing the Pharaoh in this vision _was _Yugi?"

Seto nodded. "He actually looks just like the Pharaoh now… now that he isn't a runt anymore."

"That's mean, Seto."

"Am I _known_ for being nice, Mokuba?" he asked his brother, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Nope," he said simply, staring back down to the sketch in his hand. "Did you love her?"

Seto was taken back by the directness of Mokuba's question. The only love Seto had ever really felt was brotherly – familial – he had no idea what it meant to be in love.

When you are in love, do you feel so weak? Do you feel more fragile than a crystal wine glass? Do you feel consumed by their memory and the feeling of their skin against yours?

Does love last over five thousand years?

The words were light on his tongue, barely audible, but he knew Mokuba heard.

"_I'll love her forever."_

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><p><strong>I hope the storytelling wasn't superfluous. I'm trying to get him to open up to the only person he's really ever had very strong feelings about in his present life. Plus, he holds a lot of guilt and responsibility for Mokuba's upbringing. Which contributes to his mental breakdown.<strong>

**Okay, I really want your reviews. I literally check for them every couple hours to see if I have any new ones. ^.^ I'm such a review whore, I can't help it.**

**SO REVIEW!**


	8. Brothers

**I own nothing. Nuff said.**

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><p><strong>Seto Kaiba, in another life, had his heart warmed by a mystical girl with a mystical past. Now he's a guarded Fortune 500 CEO with an inexistent love life. That is, until a liaison from Industrial Illusions sparks memories that he'd brushed off as mindless hallucinations.<strong>

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><p><strong>More angst. More brotherly love. And cliffy.<strong>

**Enjoy. ;)**

_I'll love her forever._

Where the hell did that come from? His brother, sitting next him on the edge of his bed, gazed at him with an expression he couldn't quite comprehend. His grey eyes were glittering, as if lined with tears, but were strong and apprehensive. His mouth was downturned, making Seto wonder if he was angry.

Had he meant what he said? Seto Kabia didn't _love_; besides Mokuba, the only people who cared about him were on his payroll. When people didn't agree with him, he'd whip out his checkbook. When someone was in his way, he'd hire someone to take care of them. People like that, people like _him, _Seto thought, were incapable of love.

Mokuba's eyes suddenly moved away from Seto's, and then they closed.

"You aren't the Seto I knew," he said softly, his voice slightly coated with shame. This made Seto wonder if Mokuba was _embarrassed._ Was he worried about the company – what would happen if the world found out that perhaps Seto Kaiba had gone soft?

_I am not soft, _Seto thought willfully, clenching his teeth together tightly.

"I didn't mean it," Seto said, the words fumbling out of his mouth. It was forced. Because it wasn't true, he learned, as his chest tugged him to look at the sketch of Kisara that now lay on Mokuba's lap.

Surprisingly, Mokuba laughed. Seto soon realized that the laugh was not genuine, but condescending and cruel.

"_That's_ the Seto _I know_," he spat, "Seto Kaiba doesn't open up for anyone. Seto Kaiba doesn't let himself feel _anything._ Seto Kaiba is a cold, son of a bitch." The words made Seto flinch, as they were like acid when coming from Mokuba's mouth.

"Mokuba…" Seto said, his voice hinted with a weak warning.

"_Seto. _You'd like everyone to think that you have no feelings than admit you have _weaknesses._ You're like a robot! Ever since I can remember, you've been this… machine. I used to admire you for that. You persevered like a soldier, protecting me… but now I realize that you're just as scared as anyone."

Seto stood up, his spine erect as he glared upon his brother. Mokuba quickly stood up to face him, nearly towering over Seto, as he returned the glare.

"You are just a _scared_ little boy, trapped in an asshole's body _Seto," _he told his brother harshly, "You are weak. You are so weak that you have to pretend to be better than everyone else – you have to pretend you are just a machine. Why can't you just… open up?"

There was a deafening silence between them. Then, a voice began to scream inside Seto's brain, but he muted it. He spent a long moment gazing into those same grey eyes that used to look up to him. Apparently, Seto was a worse brother than he thought. He'd always felt as though he treated Mokuba badly. Sure, he gave them a home – a horrible home. He provided Mokuba with wealth, anything his heart desired, and any education he desired. He had made the arrangements in his will for Mokuba to inherit every dime Seto had. _Those_ were things he thought were important.

His heart panged as a he realized that maybe Mokuba's heart didn't desire those things. Even Seto had realized being a millionaire wasn't what it was cut out to be. It's nothing if there's no family to share it with. Maybe Mokuba resented him for working instead of being a brother; being strong instead of being emotionally present for him.

Seto's lips parted, but then he decided it best not to speak. He gazed towards the ground, running his fingers through his brown hair.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Mokuba said begrudgingly, forcing Seto's eyes to meet his again.

"Mokuba…" Seto breathed, unsure what to say. "You don't understand – I did it for you."

"Bullshit," Mokuba snarled, shaking his head. "You did it for yourself. You were out to prove that you were the best. You always have."

"I have not!" Seto yelled, blood beginning to pump rapidly through his veins. He felt his chest get tight – anxiety over taking him again – but focused the pain into rage. "When Pegasus took you away from me, I came for you! I stood on the roof of the castle, dueling Yugi so I could get inside, and I was willing to die for you!" Mokuba's expression was confused, for good reason. Seto had never told him that he threatened to commit suicide if he lost that duel to Yugi. "I told him that he lost, I'd get all of his duel chips. And if I lost, I would throw myself from the rooftop."

Mokuba's eyes were wide, he was stunned and unsure how to respond to that.

"That's why I cannot be weak," Seto continued, his tone morose and poignant, "because anyone who wants to hurt me… will do so by hurting you." _Or anyone I might love,_ Seto thought, thinking of Kisara.

Mokuba's eyes dropped to the floor, and Seto cocked his head. He slowly brought both of his hands to his brother's face, tentatively cupping his cheeks.

"I know I didn't completely fulfill my promise to you. I didn't give you the greatest life, but I did my best. But I did do something." Mokuba's eyes opened up, the grey orbs meeting Seto's. "I have always protected you. From Pegasus, Noah… I should have realized how much I hurt you." Seto dropped his hands, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Seto," Mokuba muttered, "This is the big brother that I admire the most. You can be like this without being weak…"

Seto nodded, wishing he could truly believe that. Then, he wondered, if it were possible. When Pegasus had taken his little brother, Seto's fury and passion had been fueled for his love for Mokuba. His inept desire to spare him from pain. A bond deeper than blood; a love stronger than his anger or greed.

But what he felt for Kisara was different. The pure memory of her made him crumble and feel so human, yet so dead. Guilt overpowered him, the longing made him wish he could forget her.

Yet, something inside him knew it was love.

"She haunts me, Mokuba. She makes we weak," Seto told his brother with a resentful tone, stabbing a finger at the drawing.

"_She_ doesn't make you feel weak Seto." Mokuba held up the drawing, examining it with his eyebrows furrowed. "You make you weak. You miss her."

"I _need _her," Seto amended, his voice so low it was almost primal. "It's sick to need someone as bad as I need her. It's _sick. _Love shouldn't be like that, love shouldn't make you feel like part of you is missing when their gone." Seto nervously ran his fingers through his hair as his chest contracted, making it difficult to breathe.

"Then maybe part of you still grieves," Mokuba suggested, swallowing as Seto's face grew red.

"No, she _cripples_ me. I don't feel human, I feel like the remnants of a corpse. I feel so full of _guilt_ and _anger… _and _longing_." His voice was barely a choke – he clenched at his chest, feeling his throbbing heart beneath his shirt.

"So are you going to have a nervous breakdown, or get over it?" Mokuba said acidly, "The KaibaCorp jet leaves in three hours, for France. For your tournament. Remember our dream?"

Seto smiled a little when he said 'our dream'; because it was an idea him and Mokuba had conceived when he was just eleven.

"A KaibaLand in every viable country."

"Yes," Mokuba said. "That's why I came home early from my hiking trip in the Alps. I wanted to be there – like I've always been – when the new KaibaLand."

Seto nodded, looking up at Mokuba. "Well, thank you. I mean, I don't know. You didn't have to come. I'm almost thirty."

"Yeah, I did. Admit it, you need me," Mokuba told Seto jokingly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Maybe he did.

"Mokuba?" Seto's voice was suddenly serious.

"Yeah?"

"What if I told you that the girl… she was alive today?" His voice was hesitant, but he carefully gauged Mokuba's reaction. His face grew excited.

"You mean she was reincarnated too?" Mokuba's voice was loud and excited, a childish jitter roused within him.

"I think," Seto muttered, "I have Diana looking for her. I remember seeing her the day we came to the orphanage. You probably don't remember, but you wanted to ride off in a limo just like she did."

Mokuba's jaw dropped. "I do remember." His eyes quickly bounced to the sketch of Kisara. "I—she had blonde hair?"

Seto nodded.

"I thought you liked brunettes?" he chuckled. Mokuba must have been referring to Seto's first and only girlfriend – Michelle – who had dark chestnut hair and dark blue eyes. She was a bitch, Seto thought regrettably, and left a bad taste in his mouth that seemed to have lasted over ten years.

"No, I just liked _that_ one."

The room was filled with silence once again, and Seto realized that he had many other drawings. He pulled them out from the inner pocket of his blazer, showing them to Mokuba.

The one on top was an illustration of when he found Kisara unconscious on the street. Though, the penciling couldn't get every detail, he explained to Mokuba the events that occurred in that moment.

The other peasants in the kingdom had beaten her, accusing her of being a comrade to Zorc. She only wore a sloppily wove dress that resembled a potato sack, but it had been ripped by the claws of her accusers. When Seto had stumbled upon her, her chest and stomach were stained with blue and purple. Outraged, he had cursed every face present. Gathering her into his arms, is Priest self had inconspicuously buried his face in her hair. He could almost smell the salty scent; reminding Seto of the sea.

Her eyes barely opened, but they were full of recognition, Seto recalled. The pale blue eyes reflected his face, and a smile grew on her pink lips.

"_Seto_," she had whispered, "_it's you._"

Five millennia ago, those words had made Seto's heart race and his lips numb. He realized, as he retold the story to Mokuba, that it still did.

Mokuba smiled, as Seto was slowly opening up. The younger Kaiba brother recalled many years ago, Yugi Muto was fervent about making Seto believe in the mystical notions that Seto passed off as fairy tales. Examining his brother with a subjective position, it was clear that Seto couldn't deny it forever. Mokuba always believed; the evidence was overwhelming. After all, he remembered being consumed by darkness when Pegasus had sent him to the Shadow Realm. Seto was not as susceptible to believing that it was anymore than hypnosis or a nightmare. And then seeing Yugi practically duel himself… that was enough to send Mokuba over the edge of belief.

Seto had to come to the truth on his own, Mokuba decided, even if it cost him his sanity.

Glancing down at his wristwatch, Mokuba cleared his throat. "The plane leaves in a little bit, Seto, and you need to shower. You smell like a liquor store. And something dead." He flashed a smile to his older brother, which was returned.

"It's my jet, it won't leave with out me," Seto pointed out.

"But…" Mokuba trailed off. "You have passengers that have to get to registration for the tournament, remember?"

Seto mentally face palmed as he remembered he had invited Yugi to take his jet to France. Although, the last time they had encountered, it had not ended pleasantly. Seto also didn't doubt that Yugi would be bringing his friends… and idea he wasn't fond of. He especially hated Wheeler, his moronic tantalizations were embarrassing, to say the least.

"Right," Seto said distastefully. "I'll be getting ready… make sure Roland is ready with the limo." Much like the way Mokuba did when he was a child, he saluted and marched from the room with a sense of mission.

When Seto climbed out of the shower, he wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at himself. He looked like shit. No, a rotting pile of shit. His teeth had taken on a yellowish tint, no doubt from the booze, and he had bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He scrubbed his face with a washrag, hoping it would improve his appearance. He then put on a jet-black suit with a striped opaque tie.

Gathering his things into his briefcase, he decided he wanted to take the pictures of Kisara with him. They comforted him, yet made him feel alone. But he'd rather be alone with her memory than alone with nothing.

Mokuba was sitting at the bar drinking a soda when Seto came down.

"Good, you cleaned up," he teased, smiling lightheartedly. Seto didn't respond, but set his briefcase on the counter.

"Is the limo ready?" he asked Mokuba, who nodded as he took a sip from the soda can.

They walked out of the mansion, Seto leading, as Mokuba suddenly spoke.

"Seto?" he said tentatively, making his brother stop before opening the door of the limo.

"Yes Mokuba? We don't have all day."

Mokuba resisted the urge to grimace. "There's someone waiting in the limo."

Seto's expression fell.

"She's my girlfriend…" Mokuba continued softly, his eyes darting from Seto's. "I wanted to take her with me… so I brought her. To go with me." He flashed a fake smile, and Seto rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Fine," he told Mokuba in a conceited tone, climbing into the limosciene. He settled in as Mokuba slid next to him on the leather seat. Seto's eyes searched for this girl, but when his eyes found her… his mouth dropped open.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, turning to Mokuba suddenly with the most shocked and bewildered expression.

"No," the girl piped up in a brave and condescending tone. "My name is actually Rebecca Hawkins. I'm so glad you remember me though."

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><p><strong>Haha. I lightened up a bit at the end. I couldn't resist.<strong>

**I wonder what Yugi will think of this pairing...**

**Okay, I really want your reviews. I literally check for them every couple hours to see if I have any new ones. ^.^ I'm such a review whore, I can't help it.**

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